Opinion/Guest column: A story ending - and many new stories beginning

I went to college and never left. At least, sometimes that's what it feels like to me. Looking back to my first day on campus, I could never have imagined that one day I would be president of a college. In fact, that first day, I wasn't even sure I belonged in college at all. Now, nearly five decades later, college has become home. The measure of time for me isn't marked by years but by semesters, by the rhythm of the academic calendar. And to me, every fall semester marks a new beginning, a fresh start, more than New Year's ever did. As the air begins to cool and the leaves start to turn, I feel the excitement build within me as life returns to campus. It's energizing, like a breath of fresh air. Students fill the halls, carrying their hopes and dreams, a mixture of excitement and nerves, ready to start new friendships and a life not yet written. In each face, I see the potential that awaits them, and I see myself reflected there too, remembering how I once stood in their place. My entire life, I have sought to pay it forward, to give others the same opportunity that education gave me, to open the same door. I love the fall semester. Then it hits me all at once. This is my last fall semester. This is the last time I will wander the halls, feel the pulse of a new academic year, watch students rush to class with their backpacks and their dreams. I've spent nearly half a century in college, and at last, I am leaving. This fall marks the beginning of my final year in college life, and I plan to savor every moment of it. Just as every fall semester has heralded a new adventure, new possibilities ahead, I look at this year filled with promise. Even now, as I near the end of a journey that has spanned a lifetime, I can vividly remember my first day of college. I sat through my classes, flipping through syllabi heavy with reading assignments, research papers and exams, and understood right away that college would ask far more of me than high school ever had. But it wasn't the coursework that unsettled me most, it was that when I looked around, neither the students nor the professors looked like me. That evening, I wandered over to the athletic fields and watched from a distance as strangers tossed Frisbees through the fading light and lay in the grass together, laughing like old friends. I sat alone, and for the first time since my parents had driven away, the excitement I'd felt all day gave way to doubt. Did I really belong here? My parents had sacrificed so much to get me to that campus, and the hopes of my whole family rode on my shoulders. The weight of it was almost more than I could carry. As that first day turned to night, I made a promise to myself. I would not let my family down, I would face each challenge head-on, and I would persevere. Whether others thought so or not, I belonged in college. My journey has not been easy, but as I am nearing the end of this long chapter in my life, I feel I fulfilled that promise made on that evening so long ago. Along the way, I made it my mission to see that no student ever felt as alone as I did that day on the field and that every one of them found their footing, and then their way forward. Every fall semester at orientation, I remind students that they belong, that they can accomplish what they set out to do. I remind students of the supports we have built to help them along their journey, and that they are not alone. We have mentors to encourage them, a food pantry to nourish them, counseling and tutoring. Veterans, parenting and first-generation students each have their own centers to support them, where they can find others like them, walking the same journey. As I look to the year ahead, I aim to continue that commitment by keeping college affordable, increasing funds for emergency assistance and ensuring we have the best resources to help our students succeed. It is not just those students' futures that are at stake; it is our future as a community and a nation. Each student who comes this fall is a promise waiting to be fulfilled. Each holds a key to our future. And I hope that as I depart, our community takes up the torch to continue supporting students at our community college, ensuring they keep succeeding. Someone asked me recently what I would want my legacy at QCC to be. It was a good question, and it got me thinking. Some people measure their legacies by buildings that bear their name, by the acclaim and fame they gather, by their own success. I measure mine by the students I served, by their success and their accomplishments. They are my legacy. Luis G. Pedraja is president of Quinsigamond Community College.